May the memory never fade

Matthew David Millhouse: A tribute

These words were written as a eulogy to my friend Matt. Of course, on the day I made some changes through the tears as I read them, but I think this is pretty close to what I said. I have posted them here for those who couldn't be at the funeral and as a lasting tribute. May his character never be forgotten.

Our heroes never really leave us. They live on in the memories they leave behind. And Matt was truly a hero. Despite the sad occasion, I can only describe it as an honour to speak about Matt today.

Before I do though, can I first echo Nicole and thank everyone for coming today, especially those who have travelled far.It really would have meant a lot to Matt.I’d like to also acknowledge the many others who cannot be here, especially Matt’s great friends, Andrew and Alison Simpson, who have been emailing me during the week and asked me to pass on their heartfelt condolences to Matt’s family.

I would be remiss not to thank Nicole- and by extension Bronte- for her beautiful words. I couldn’t have been more impressed by the courage, compassion and strength shown by both her and Matt’s wife, Terese in the last few days, as well as the weeks prior. My friend would be proud of both of you. I would also like to publically extend my sympathy to Matt’s whole family. I speak for many here when I say, if there is anything I can do, now or in the future, I’m just a phone call away.

I loved Matt like a brother, more probably.He was generous, honest and funny.Incredibly funny. But he could also be stubborn.So stubborn.The closest you would get to hearing him admit he was wrong was a cheeky smile and the sentence: “Blah blah blah you’re a dirty...”He did have a preferred noun to finish that sentence too, but I won’t share that one.

I reckon the only thing that kept him alive for the last week or so was that stubbornness.But that was what gave many people a final chance to farewell him, so even that trait- which had once infuriated me- became something to treasure about him in the end.

I first met Matt almost two decades ago when I joined the army.In a company of strong personalities and highly competent soldiers, one man quickly made a powerful impression on me.He had an obvious confidence that came from a high degree of knowledge, initiative and a wicked sense of humour.He had a lot to do with company morale and culture, organising social events for the boys and making new soldiers enjoy being part of the unit.His friendship came with the automatic hospitality of his wonderful parents, Jenny and David, whose Bellerive house became the FUP for many a social event.He liked to flirt with trouble a little- a bit more than a little if I’m fair- but he somehow always came out ok.I don’t understand how.

As an infantryman, Matt was one of the best scouts that I ever worked with- a skill he was proud to have inherited from his father. Although there was one occasion in Malaysia where his scouting instincts completely missed a number of danger signs and we were lucky to be ushered out the back door of a nightclub as the Chinese triads were coming for us through the front door.

I was both sad and proud when Matt joined the regular army.I was happy for him, as I knew he would excel.But for all my pride in my friend, Tasmania was a poorer place for his absence.Major Garth Callender will speak after me and give you a greater insight into Matt’s military life so I will fast-forward to the joyful moment Matt told me he was leaving the army and returning to Tasmania.

He and Terese enjoyed a wonderful Odyssey, driving back from Darwin.They were married, bought a house and Ellie was born.I couldn’t have been happier for my friend.He was, in fact, the reason I re-joined the reserve- he plied me with drinks on ANZAC Day and made me promise I would come back.Unfortunately, after a few years, Matt’s trauma became more evident, until his world shrank to a much smaller range of experiences and people.Even through this time, his character and bravery were evident.He would have had every right to become bitter or morose, but he faced his challenges with stoicism.He even had the courage to tell his story on national TV, in the hope that others would not experience the same problems.

In the final weeks, in which we could see the end approaching, I found myself faced with a tension about how to speak to him.I was hesitant to make an emotional farewell every time I left, because I wanted him to know I believed he would still be alive when I returned, but I didn’t want to miss the chance to tell him how much he had meant to me.

In the end I started to hedge my bets.I made sure that every time I visited, I took the chance to tell him something I respected or admired about him.This wasn’t hard- there was so much to choose from.I had a stray image in my head one day, of me coming in in another month’s time and talking about one of his achievements and for him to crack one eye open, look at me and reply with another of his trademark lines: “Go on about it.”

The last thing I told him, about an hour before he died, was that he was the bravest and most loyal friend anyone could hope for.And I have no doubt of that.He actually redefined both of these qualities- courage and loyalty- is his own inimitable style.

Matt’s idea of loyalty became the yardstick by how I measured other friendships.It wasn’t just being there to back your mates up- although he could always be relied on for that too.It meant making decisions with your friends’ best interest in mind all the time, even when that meant telling me I was being stupid (I know some people here today will have a hard time believing there was ever cause for this, but there was).He was willing to upset me to make sure I looked after myself.Friendship, for Matt, came with inviolate standards of behaviour.We once got into a heated argument over our slightly different interpretation of these standards and things got a bit nasty for a day or two.We never really came to an agreement on who was right either, although we did agree that alcohol and BB guns weren’t a great combination.

Of course, such love and respect for his friends was complicated.It did not save us from his savage sense of humour.No one was safe from that.He took great delight in his strange ability to say and do things that no one else would get away with and never really offend anyone.I suspect the slightly sadistic side of Matt’s sense of humour would get a chuckle out of his mates being up late last night preparing their service uniforms, doubly so if any photos end up on the news and cost them a carton.I can imagine him smiling as I whinge about it now and thinking, “Go on about it.”

Matt’s love for his friends was obvious, but this paled compared to his love for his family.“Family is the most important thing,” he said to me on a number of occasions.The pride in his voice whenever he spoke of Tess’s singing and the smile that came to his face whenever I even mentioned little Eleanor, repeated this message to me even when he wasn’t saying it aloud.

Along with loyalty, Matt also showed me the meaning of true courage.He was an incredibly brave man.Not because he wasn’t afraid of things, but because he had the courage to openly admit such fears and face them.When he returned from his first deployment to Iraq, he was not too proud to admit he had been shaken by the experience.Understandably too.He would have been an idiot if he hadn’t.“I don’t want to go back,” he said to me quite plainly.“I have too much to lose.”

But he did go back.His unit was deployed a second time and Matt would not shirk his duty.I can’t imagine just how challenging that second deployment- even the journey over- must have been.It is easy to do things you are not scared of, but it takes a lot more character to be scared of what you have to do and to do it anyway. I can only say again that I am supremely grateful that there are brave men like Matt who are willing to face such danger so that the rest of us don’t have to.

He also had the courage to make the most of life.He embraced every opportunity he was presented with, never letting his fears or uncertainties hold him back.It meant that he jammed a wonderful array of incredible experiences into his tragically short life.I think in his determination to make the most of an unpredictable life, Matt leaves us something we can learn from. Certainly, a legacy I hope to take from him is to put more of my time, energy and resources into being with friends and doing the things I love.

Along with listening to Michael Jackson on repeat, one of the simpler things Matt loved was watching movies, so it seems fitting to end with a film reference.An oft-quoted line from Bladerunner states that the candle that burns twice as bright, burns twice as fast.In his time, Matt’s flame shone three times as bright.But sadly now that time has passed, so today we farewell a great soldier, a hero, a loving family man and a loyal friend.As sad as we are today, our lives are all richer for the privilege of knowing him.